


Some Foundation of Fact

by Zoe Rayne (MontanaHarper)



Category: Glory Days
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-16
Updated: 2004-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-02 11:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/Zoe%20Rayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rudy and Mike's late-night conversation results in confessions on both sides.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Foundation of Fact

**Author's Note:**

> Very vaguely implied slash, but not Rudy/Mike.

> "But I hate things **all fiction**...there should always be some foundation of fact for the most airy fabric—and pure invention is but the talent of a liar."  
> — Lord Byron

Mike leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. On the other side of his desk, Rudy seemed engrossed in the two piles of paperwork he was meticulously comparing, but Mike thought he caught the faintest hint of a smile at the corners of Rudy's mouth.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he said, trying for accusatory but, to be honest with himself, sounding more like petulant.

This time it was a full-on grin as Rudy looked up at him. "Yeah, I suppose I am. I told you that you didn't need to go all the way to Seattle and spend a hundred bucks to get your taxes done."

"So you're right. Again." Mike tested out a frown. He wasn't sure whether Rudy's widening grin meant that it had worked or that it hadn't.

"And you're worried that it'll set a bad precedent?" Rudy teased. "So I have a natural talent for making sense out of nonsense. It's a talent that, so far, has only two benefits: it makes me an excellent sheriff and it means I can do your taxes. I don't think I'll be stealing your Pulitzer anytime soon." This time the grin was wry. Rudy looked back down at the tax returns, continuing to compare the two.

Mike let the conversation drop into silence. After all, there wasn't much more he could say. Rudy had been right. For a few minutes, Rudy's occasional paper shuffling was the only sound to break the late-night stillness of the sheriff's office.

"About what you wrote about me in the book," Rudy said suddenly, without looking up.

The segue was far from logical as far as Mike was concerned. "It was a work of fiction, Rudy," he said, the disclaimer coming automatically to his lips.

Rudy looked up then, meeting Mike's eyes. "Can you keep a secret?"

The solemn tone made him reconsider the flip answer that had been on the tip of his tongue. "Yeah," he said simply.

"You were right." Rudy dropped his gaze. "About me, I mean. I am repressed. And...you know...." His knuckles were nearly as white as the sheaves of paper he clutched.

Not entirely sure he did know, but certain that Rudy was investing a lot of trust in him, Mike said, "What are you trying to tell me?"

Tentatively, Rudy looked up at him again. "You were right, whether or not you knew it. Hell, whether or not I knew it. I, um...I like guys."

"You're gay?" He had to have misheard, misinterpreted. Something.

"Well, I don't know that I'd say that. I went out with Abby because I was interested in her. So not exclusively gay, no." Rudy paused. "You okay with this, Mike?"

The knot in Mike's gut—one he hadn't even realized was there—tightened. The words seemed to spill out of him like they had a life of their own. "Rudy, you know you're my best friend, right? But Ellie and I.... I mean, it doesn't always seem like it, but I'm pretty sure she and I have a future. It's nothing personal, really, but...." He stopped, finally registering the sound coming from across the desk.

Rudy was laughing.

"Oh, very funny," Mike snapped, irritated that he'd let Rudy play him for a fool.

"It wasn't a joke," Rudy said, bringing himself under control. "It was just.... I was confessing my deep, dark secret, not hitting on you."

Mike felt warmth creeping up his cheeks. Now he felt not only uncomfortable, but like an idiot as well. It took less than a minute for his curiosity to overwhelm his discomfort. "If not me, then who?" he demanded.

Rudy shook his head. "That's not a secret I'm willing to share, even with you, Mike," he said. "Why don't you just enjoy being right?"

"It's still only a work of fiction."

"Yeah, I know." Rudy held out the papers. "Here are both copies of your return. Essentially identical," he said, handing them over. "Next time, save your cash and your travel time and come to me first."

"Yeah, yeah, I will." Mike stood, then stopped. "Rudy?" he said, waiting until he had Rudy's full attention before continuing. "Thank you." For telling me, he meant, for trusting me. But he couldn't seem to get those words out.

Rudy grinned. "Any time," he said, and Mike knew he understood the unspoken words.

On his way out of Rudy's office Mike passed Tim, who was carrying two Styrofoam cups of coffee.

"'night, Mike."

"'night, Tim."

Rudy's door closed behind Tim and the blinds snicked into place.

Halfway out the front door, Mike stopped, looking speculatively over his shoulder for a moment. Then: "Nah."


End file.
